Lights
by Midnight Circus
Summary: How many tennis prodigies does it take to change a light bulb?
1. Ryoma

I was feeling very mad today, because I was kicked out of my Mom's cousin's house. By some security guard. Because I used the back entrance… IT WAS WIDE OPEN.

So anyway, while I was feeling extremely pissed off, I decided to think of Fuji (because he cheers me up) and it sort of spiraled down into this. Because I WAS running in spirals in the first place.

So this is the product of my annoyances, i hope you will enjoy it.

yes.

* * *

Ryoma was feeling quite annoyed. As if having his match with Fuji thwarted again wasn't enough, he had been soaked to the skin by the pouring rain, unable to accept the fact that bad weather had cut his game short again.

"Ryoma," Fuji had called out from the sheltered changing rooms, "I know you're upset, but try not to drown yourself."

If he had been giving control of the weather, he would have created a void section right above the Seigaku tennis courts. That would have been perfect.

But now, he stood in front of his locker, the rest of the team having left already, with the exception of Fuji, who had been thoughtful enough to stay behind lest the boy did something drastic. Fuji had once seen the boy slice a ball in half due to its faulty bounce, which had cost him one point. Who knew what he might do in this kind of situation? Tezuka had just made him stand under the awning outside the changing rooms until he dripped dry enough not to create a mess indoors.

And now he stood in front of his locker, eye twitching with unrivalled irritation. The ever defective lamp that hung behind his locker had begun it's blinking routine again. Sporadically illuminating and de-luminating the entire locker room. Ryoma wrung his shirt, letting the rainwater pool onto the tiled floor Tezuka had tried so hard to keep dry.

As he reached into his locker for his shoes, a sudden burst of light reflected on the mirror drilled into the back of his locker and into his eyes, momentarily blinding him and causing him to hit his head on a very solid metal locker door.

His curses echoed around the interior of the locker.

"Ryoma, something wrong?" Fuji said, head cocked to one side whilst he toweled it dry.

"Just how difficult is it to change a stupid light bulb?" Ryoma nearly yelled.

"Ryoma, we've already reported this to the estate department, but they haven't—"

"Then let's do it ourselves then. It's just a light bulb, how hard can it be?"

"You'd be surprised."

"I bet I can do it."

"Then you can go home and find some light bulbs, and rest for a bit. Make sure you don't fall sick."

"But Fuji-senpai! Tomorrow is the practice match against Hyotei, how do you think this light bulb will affect our school pride? We cannot let our locker rooms be seen in such a state."

"Ryoma, I think you're taking this a bit too far."

"How far? How do you think Atobe and his gang will laugh at us for this light bulb? It will potentially affect their playing ability, giving them the impression that they are better than us, which will inherently affect how they play, which will give them a greater chance of winning!"

Fuji knew now probably wasn't the best time to talk sense into Ryoma, seeing as he obviously wasn't going to listen in the first place.

"Okay, Ryoma, we can come in tomorrow morning before Hyotei comes at two, okay?"

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." Ryoma laced up his shoes and dropped his soggy clothing into a ziplog bag.

* * *

Ryoma arrived at the Seigaku courts the next day, for the first time, early. Armed with his tennis bag and light bulb, he stormed into the changing rooms and looked smugly at the lamp which hung from the ceiling.

"Hey Ryoma, you got the light bulbs?"

Ryoma spun around at this sudden voice, interrupting his staring contest with the lamp.

"Yes, I got it." He held it up.

Fuji looked at the light bulb in Ryoma's hand, then back to the lamp, which was located far above the freshman's reach.

"And you're going to get it up how?"

Something inside of Ryoma seemed to snap, and for a moment, the two of them stared at each other, both marveling at Ryoma's lack of foresight. After a full minute, Ryoma dropped the lightbulb onto the bench, turning towards the door and muttering something about ladders.

Picking up Ryoma's precious light bulb, he observed it with interest, having nothing better to do anyway.

"I'm… back…" Ryoma was standing at the doorway, looking extremely small compared to the tall ladder he was leaning against in fatigue.

"Ryoma… did you bring that from home?"

"Yes…" the boy panted, "something… the matter?"

"No, I'm just… surprised."

"Now let's get this stupid light bulb done with." He picked up the ladder with surprising ease and dropped it under the lamp. Snatching the incandescent bulb from Fuji's grasp, he climbed, one rung at a time, until he stood directly below the lamp. He unscrewed the original carefully, turning his wrist in the same circular motions.

"Catch," the amateur lighting technician dropped the original bulb into Fuji's cupped hands below, retrieving the new bulb from his pocket. As his fingers touched the lamp, a small jolt of electricity shocked his fingers, and he jerked his hand instinctively away from the metal, throwing his small frame dangerously off balance.

The ladder wobbled, but left Ryoma perched precariously on the edge.

"Something wrong?" Fuji asked, one hand already on the ladder for stabilities sake.

"Damn, static." He mumbled, resuming the task of replacing the light bulb. He had heard enough light bulb jokes in his life, now resolute in proving that one person, alone, could change a lightbulb.

One hand clutching the ladder, the other holding the glass envelope of the bulb, now inverted, Ryoma lifted the bulb slowly towards the lamp, not wanting another electrical shock. It was only when he held the screw cap to the socket (A/N Sorry, I forgot the official name for the part you screw the lightbulb into) that he realized a problem.

"Screw it!" Ryoma yelled, fighting the urge of squashing the bulb to pieces.

"Nice pun there, but is anything wrong?"

"Damn right something is wrong, this bulb is too small."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I guess you need a replacement?"

Growling colourful swears under his breath, Ryoma descended the ladder with an unexpected grace, storming out of the locker room, no doubt heading back home. Fuji watched him leave.

That was definitely one determined little freshman.

Ryoma returned a few minutes later, red faced and sweaty, hugging a large box to his chest with a set expression upon his face. No way was he going to let the lamp get the better of him. He was a tennis prodigy, far above lamps.

Hauling the box onto the bench, Ryoma opened it, revealing a wide (dis)array of light bulbs, most of them still in their packaging.

Before Fuji could ask the obvious question as to why such a large amount of light bulbs in his possession, Ryoma explained, awkwardly, "I have quite a large house and we need lots of light bulbs on hand."

He tore open the plastic covering on two of the bulbs, stuffing one into his pocket before grabbing a few loose bulbs and doing the same.

Too big.

Too small.

Since when did he own pink lights?

None of the bulbs seemed to fit, and Ryoma, scowling magnificently, dropped the light bulbs back into the box, not bothering to check if they shattered upon contact.

"Will you pass me another bulb, Fuji-senpai?" Ryoma asked, stretching down a hand to receive the said bulb.

"Sure." Fuji pressed one into his hand, having just grabbed It from a pile in the box.

It was a perfect fit. Teeming with excitement, Ryoma screwed it in, waiting for the satisfying shine of the bulb. As his made one final flick of his wrist, the entire changing room was illuminated by a warm white light. Ryoma, grinning stupidly, stepped down rung, before something gave his mood a complete one eighty degree change.

The light went out, then turned on again. Then off. Then on. And I continued flickering. Ryoma gave himself five seconds to calm down. Neither of the two human beings in the room said another word. Then Ryoma climbed up the ladder again, and whipped the bulb out of the socket with an almost beast-like ferocity.

"Ryoma, do you need hel—"

"No." Ryoma replied shortly, left hand quivering with the sheer effort of not flinging down the light bulb and stamping it to smithereens with his Converses, "Get me another bulb, Size…" Ryoma consulted the bulb, "A15."

"A15?"

"A15," Ryoma confirmed. All notions of light bulb changing being a one man job had just gone up in smoke.

"There you go," Fuji handed another bulb towards Ryoma, which was immediately snatched away.

"You think you won, don't 'cha?" Ryoma hissed to nobody in particular, golden eyes displaying a strangely feral glow which sent shivers down Fuji's spine.

He fitted the bulb into its socket, holding his breath as he watched the bulb burst into light.

One minute passed, and Ryoma felt it safe to descend. Placing one foot on the lower rung gently, as if the slightest movement would put out the light, Ryoma shifted his weight off his left leg and onto his right. The ladder creaked, and Ryoma flinched.

Then suddenly, the light flickered, and flickered, finally dying out entirely. Ryoma froze, brain unable to process what had just happened.

Light.

Bulb.

Out.

Dark.

There was a long silence, eventually broken by Fuji, "Well, what do you think about this fluorescent one?"

"AUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHH!" Ryoma yelled, clawing up the ladder once more. Tearing the bulb from the socket, he flung it down onto the tiled floor, relishing for a few moments, the wonderful sound of breaking glass.

Silence again.

"You're going to be cleaning that up, Ryoma."

"I GIVE UP!"

"But Ryoma, you never give up."

"Like hell I care, Hyotei can come and scrap this entire room for all I care."

"Be careful, Ryoma, you're still on the ladder," Fuji had one hand on Ryoma's back, the other on his lower thigh, feeling for certain the freshman was going to fall if he continued flailing his limbs.

"Get your hands OFF me!"

"You want to see what will happen if I do?" Fuji chuckled evilly, "Well then," He removed one hand from Ryoma's leg, causing the freshman to throw his arms onto the lockers to keep balance.

"I TAKE BACK WHAT I JUST SAID! HELP!"

"Told you," Fuji put both of his hands on Ryoma's waist and lifted him off the ladder.

"Well, Ryoma, looks like Hyotei is going to find out about the missing bulb now."

"Well, I'd like to see Atobe trying to fix the damn bulb, let's see if he can do it, eh?"

"… I think you'd better get some rest."

How many tennis prodigies did it take to change a light bulb?

Two. One cocky one to fail, and another with sadistic tendencies to keep him sane after the ordeal.

* * *

WELL that was strange…

I have been using the computer for two hours straight since lunchtime, and my sister's getting impatient.

Ha, let's see how she likes being kept waiting.

Any problems, please tell me!


	2. Atobe

HEYLOOO! I decided to do an extra chapter, since I found it quite fun! To do this. I have just finished 2 seasons of CSI in four days? Yeah, that's like one season in two days. But I just can't resist it, My uncle has the ENTIRE CSI seasons from one to seven? I think? Yeah, and letting a nerd loose on that stuff is serious business. Serious business indeed

Oh, and I won't use ore-sama unless absolutely necessary, because I find it quite annoying if it's overused… so yeah…

ENJOYYY!

* * *

Atobe led his team onto the courts, staring distastefully at everything within sight, from the concrete pavement he was walking on, to the grass growing on the hill by the courts.

"Tezuka! I see that you still haven't taken my suggestion to install lamps?"

"That's because we do not _use_ the courts at night, Atobe."

"Well that's an experience lost by your lot, isn't it?" He snapped his fingers, signalling his team to stop their chatter, "Okay! To the changing rooms!" If his team felt any embarrassment at having Atobe as their captain, they kept quiet about it.

The Seigaku regulars watched as the white-and-light-blue clad team marched off towards the locker rooms, exchanging looks of exasperation and amusement, or, for Ryoma and Fuji, slight nervousness on Ryoma's part.

A loud shriek sliced through the air. Widening his eyes ever so slightly in surprise, Tezuka brisked towards the locker rooms, the rest of the regulars in tow.

"Eurgh, this is _Hideous_!" Atobe declared once the host team drew close enough to hear. "Ore-sama demands you renovate this area IMMEDIATELY! I refuse to set foot into this… this… _hellhole_."

His team, standing behind him, were either sending patronizing glances at the dented lockers, completely ignoring the situation at hand, or, pertaining to one person, sleeping on the bench.

Tezuka, not in the mood to down an entire bottle of aspirin, decided to reason with the unreasonable Atobe, "I assure you, that it is perfectly functional, and should accommodate to all your needs during your, brief, stay."

"Tezuka, Tezuka, Tezuka," Atobe shook his head pityingly, "Is _this_ how you have been living all this while? You should have accepted the offer to Hyotei ore-sama gave you when the window was still open."

"I had no intention of accepting," Tezuka said curtly, his fuse already shortened considerably. Fuji, perhaps sensing eminent danger, ushered the Hyotei team into the changing room amidst cries of protest.

"Let's get on to the games, alright?"

Atobe was clearly extremely reluctant of having to allow his darling bags and clothes come into contact with the 'hideousness' of the locker room, but was left with no other choice. He removed his windbreaker slowly, folding it daintily into his bag. As he reached for a locker to place his things, he jumped, giving a cry of shock.

"Tezuka! I know you commoners can't afford the simple luxury of a bath house, but this is too much."

"Excuse me?"

"The lights, Tezuka, the lights!" He pointed dramatically to the ceiling lamp, "How is ore-sama to observe ore-sama's perfect complexion if the lighting isn't perfect?"

"That's life, Atobe," Ryoma piped up from his locker, "Live with it."

"Ryoma!" Atobe looked scandalized, "You of all people should see the grave implication of this! Oh, and I'm glad to see you kept the mirror I gave you."

Ryoma gaped, "You _drilled_ it into the back, there was nothing I could do _but_ keep it."

"Whatever. Tezuka, I demand you replace the bulb now! I cannot play without the peace of mind that my perfect face lies in wait when I have finished the game."

Tezuka removed his glasses and rubbed the glass on the hem of his shirt, the universal Tezuka symbol of 'I'm extremely annoyed with you'. "Atobe… we do not carry spare bulbs with us…"

"Yes we do!" Ryoma called, finding the perfect excuse to do something fun, "It's in the box, and there's a ladder in the back."

"Well, at least you lot have your preparedness to make up for your poverty, thank you Ryoma. Kabaji! Replace, the bulb!" Atobe commanded magnificently. It would have sounded more regal had it not been such a silly request.

"Usu," Kabaji replied predictably, his lumbering figure reaching out for a bulb. Ryoma watched him as he selected a one, not bothering to hide the smirk that donned his face.

"Oh Ryoma," Fuji mumbled softly, "What will you do if he manages to get the job done?"

"He won't," Ryoma dismissed the notion, "I'm sure of it."

"And what makes you so sure?" Fuji said slyly, sensing a potential victim-of-the-day.

"If I can't, nobody can."

"Really? And will you bet on that?"

Ryoma hesitated, before saying quickly, "Of course!"

"Don't forget it Ryoma, you said it yourself!"

As he pondered on how Fuji could make such an innocent situation sound potentially deadly, Kabaji had already screwed in the first bulb. Ryoma was quite sure it would die out again. The light wavered slightly, but remained reasonably strong.

Ryoma stared. That big burly copycat tennis guy with no brains of his own did not just do that. Oh no he didn't. He didn't. He didn't.

"Oh look Ryoma, he did it!"

This could not possibly be right. No. Was the lamp rigged? Did they just re-do the entire school electric system? Perhaps someone replaced all the bulbs in the box? Maybe they changed the lamp entirely. Or maybe the light wasn't on at all! It was just made to _look_ like it was on.

"NO!" Atobe's loud call brought Ryoma back from far-fetched speculations, "Kabaji, ore-sama only uses hard, warm white light. This is… this is…" Atobe gestured wildly towards the light, searching for a word in his vocabulary to describe the sheer frightfulness of the colour, before slumping down and shaking his head, as if this light bulb was an insult to his entire dynasty.

"Usu."

"Not usu! Change the bulb! Or I'll call in a _technician_." Atobe hissed.

"Usu."

"Atobe…" Tezuka struggled to find the correct words to say.

"Don't you 'Atobe' me, don't you know that this is a serio—"

"Why don't we leave Atobe and Kabaji to the bulbs, and we start on the games first?" Oshitairi suggested, examining his racquet. So there _was_ someone sane on the Hyotei group, "Those playing Atobe and Kabaji can stay to… watch them."

"But I'm playing Atobe!" Ryoma cried, still in denial about the bulbs.

"Then you'll have to wait," Tezuka replied grimly, picking up his racquet and walking out of the changing rooms first, unable to spend another minute with Atobe's whining.

"No no! I said warm white! This is white! No, no! Not yellow! Yes, that one. What do you mean it doesn't fit? Don't you 'Usu' me, get the bulb in!"

Ryoma feared for his sanity.

"That's it! Ore-sama cannot take this madness! I'm calling a technician."

Meanwhile, the games had already started, with only him and Taka left in the changing rooms.

"Um, you want to go see the games?" Taka suggested.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T PROVIDE LIGHT BULB SERVICES?"

"Sure why not." Eager to get away, the two of them slipped out, unnoticed to Atobe, who was busy arguing with the technician on the other line.

"MY FATHER IS CHAIRMAN OF ATOBE INDUSTRIES! I WILL RUIN YOUR LIFE! HEAR ME? DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP!"

From their positions outside the changing rooms, Ryoma could hear it loud and clear, and he now feared for his hearing. There was a brisk dialing tone.

"Father, I have an urgent matter to discuss…" He paused, waiting for a reply, "It concerns the matter of Peanut Tech…" he stopped again, and something his father said on the other line made him laugh, "No, no! I'm not asking for an assassination, I just want someone down there…" Another break, "Yes! And tell them to send someone over to Seigaku… Yes Seigaku. They have a decent tennis team, father, it would be a shame to demolish it. Though something could be said about their locker rooms… No, no, Tezuka would murder me if I did that… No! he's a friend of mine!" he paused again and chuckled, "Yes, you know me quite well… Oh, and tell them to fire whoever who received the call on line 32. Thanks, father! I'll see you next week then, bye!"

There was the snap of a clamshell cell, and Ryoma was left in silence to ponder on exactly how much power Atobe possessed. Good thing he decided to stop with the Monkey-king thing, or his body might have made the front page. He had better make the regulars step up their game as well, if they wanted to keep Seigaku intact. He peered into the room. Atobe was checking his watch, while holding his cellphone in front of him.

"Five… four… three… two…"

The cellphone rang, and Atobe held it elegantly to his ear, "Hello, and who might this be?" "Oh! How wonderful! Oh it's no trouble, no trouble at all!" "Of course, certainly!" "Is it? How very odd indeed," "I'm sure it's merely coincidence." "Yes, I'll be awaiting your arrival." "Thank you very much."

Ryoma reverted his attention to the game, between Gakuto and Oshitairi, and Oishi and Eiji, deciding it was much less taxing to see the two redheads hold a mini acrobatics competition.

Within minutes, a bright yellow truck halted in the driveway, and a short, porky middle-aged man stepped out, a toolbox and light bulbs in hand.

"You called?" he said in a low voice, setting his toolbox down.

"Um, no… he did." Ryoma pointed to Atobe, who was pacing up and down the changing rooms.

"And what may I do for you, sir?" The man bowed towards Atobe, who looked positively flattered.

"I need you, to change that bulb." He presented the lamp majestically, a haughty look to his eyes.

"It will be done, sir." Ryoma had to choke back a laugh at this highly amusing display.

* * *

"May I ask why the job isn't done yet?" Atobe, perspiring slightly from his match with Ryoma, was staring down at the workman.

"I apologize, dear sir, but this is impossible! Unless I rewire the entire lamp, which will mean demolishing part of the ceiling, there is no way to let it shine."

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, I must not have heard right, but did you just tell me you cannot do this job?" Atobe lowered his volume.

"Yes, sir. I've tried everything, sir." The man looked terrified.

"Well then, there's nothing I can do now, is there?" Atobe said quietly, bending down to the little man, "You may leave."

The little man scuttled off to his van, looking relieved as his car sped off. The two teams watched curiously at Atobe, who stared coldly at the retreating yellow van. Then without another word, he whipped out his cellphone, dialing.

"Hey, father, sorry for the second call… About the assassination…"

* * *

And that's it… I bet the last part was rushed, wasn't it? but I guess we can all survive!

Maybe I'll do one for every person I like… I dunno

But here it is! Give it up for ATOBE~!

Thanks for everyone who has alerted and favorited!

YOU MAKE MY DAY!

CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT?

bye!


	3. Yukimura And the rest of Rikkai

OH MY GOSH!

KYA KYA KYA KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! (I find this very annoying, yet suitably apt for the situation) Thank you for reading this story! which was meant to be one chapter but it was stuck in my head so… this…

Anyway, I hope to get all of my favourite characters done when I get the chance. Or until I run out of ideas…

So here it is: Yukimura, and perhaps the rest of the team as well. He's_ beautiful_, (sigh)

Okay. I will explain my_ obsession_ with Japanese maples outside windows, down below…

* * *

"Syuusuke, may I ask why you have called my team here a mere week after you had your match with Hyotei? I trust the regulars must have wanted a little rest, after all, it is a makeshift competition."

"I suppose so, but we ran into some… unexpected problems along the way, and the matches did not go as well as intended."

"Elaborate."

"Well, Seiichi, let's just say that Ryoma still is in a state of shock."

Yukimura's previously friendly demeanor suddenly turned stone cold, "Oh? Did he lose? To whom, exactly did he lose to? Atobe? I'm afraid this I cannot accept, Ryoma cannot lose. After all, he has defeated me once."

"Not tennis… But never mind, I believe your team presents sufficient challenge to take his mind off things."

"I should hope, we have been training quite intensively."

The Seigaku regulars were already ready and gathered around a bench. Most of them were still wondering why they had this match in the first place, seeing as the one with Hyotei went reasonably well, that is, except Ryoma's. They stopped their discussion as the Rikkai team drew closer, imposing despite their strange colour combinations.

"Well well, if it isn't the brat of Seigaku," Kirihara stepped out from his team, smirking at Ryoma, who was seated in the middle of the group.

Ryoma stood up, "Well well, if it isn't the baby of the bumblebees."

"What did you say, you spoilt brat?"

"What did you say, you—"

"Echizen, I would prefer if you didn't attempt to insult our team colours. If you haven't noticed, bumblebees have quite a _sharp_… sting." Yukimura smiled, successfully shutting Ryoma up.

"Whatever." He mumbled.

"Ryoma, I know you and Kirihara have some issues, but do you mind not involving the entire team?"

"He," Ryoma pointed to the demon, "_broke_ my leg." It hadn't been a forgettable nor forgivable incident. Kirihara had attacked his leg with a tennis ball until his tibia had actually cracked. It had been a hairline crack, but the bone had slipped enough to render him immobile for the next ten weeks, something Ryoma had never let Kirihara live down. And now, their conflict had only just resurfaced, as it did whenever they met, which, thankfully, wasn't a lot.

"It was an accident!" Kirihara defended, shrugging, "accidents happen."

"Oh, so the '_with this shot, I will break your leg_!' was also part of the 'accident'?"

"Ryoma," Fuji reproached, showing Yukimura the designated area for changing, "Be nice."

"Yeah, Ryoma," Kirihara mocked, "Be _nice_!"

"Akaya!" Yukimura, twirled the boy to the direction of the locker rooms.

"Yes buchou," Kirihara replied, in a rare show of meekness.

* * *

"Syuusuke!" Yukimura called, once his team had settled into the changing rooms, most of them minding their own businesses while changing.

"Yes?"

"Why, may I ask, is there a hole in the ceiling?"

"Oh, we temporarily removed the lamp, because Ryoma was a little mad that he couldn't replace the bulb."

Yukimura dropped his jersey into his bag, pausing in the movement of putting on his shirt.

"Oh, so Echizen _failed _at replacing this bulb, yes?"

"Yes, he ripped the lamp out."

"Well then, since he _failed_, _I _will attempt to replace the bulb, just to prove, that although Echizen might have beaten me, once, at tennis, I still possess greater prowess at light installation."

Yukimura had never really bothered to hide his utter infatuation with defeating Ryoma, something which was never really quite accomplished, probably due to the fact that Rikkai and Seigaku rarely met in the first place.

"Seiichi, I think we can settle this at a better—" Fuji started.

"Well I see no better time to do so," Yukimura pulled the shirt down over his head.

"Yukimura-buchou, I can help!" Kirihara, who had been listening intently from the start, jumped up in enthusiasm, no doubt also excited at the prospect at beating Ryoma at something, despite it being something as trivial as lighting installations.

"Of course," Yukimura smiled, somehow locating the box of bulbs Ryoma had never gotten round to removing, "Here," He tossed a bulb towards the gleeful boy, who held it as if it had been autographed by an idol. Fuji could _almost_ hear him crow, '_my Yukimura-buchou_ touched _this_!', although his expression already said as much.

"Fuji, might I ask what is taking them so long?"

"The light, Tezuka, Seiichi is having a go with the light."

"_Again_? We have no time to waste, or do you want to do what we did with Atobe?"

"I don't think it's possible. I know Seiichi and his team, and whatever happens, everyone else will want to see."

Tezuka held a hand to his forehead, before turning around without another word, most likely to find his painkillers again. At the rate he was consuming them now, he might soon be banned from the drugstore for fears of OTC addiction. After which the team would face the dire consequences of his withdrawal symptoms. Fuji had experimented before, with the help of Inui. Sixty eight percent increase in laps. Not exactly the most desirable effect.

* * *

"Seiichi, you done?" The Seigaku team had taken it upon them to start amusing themselves, most of them already starting separate games on their own. Ryoma, thankfully, was now occupied with Tezuka, with whom he was still competing for the 'pillar of support' position.

"Not yet, I just managed to wire up the lamp. Now, it's for the bulb." He clicked a pair of pliers in his hand, smiling in accomplishment.

"Good luck with _that_."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind." Fuji decided against attempting to talk Yukimura out of it. Once Yukimura set his mind to do something, no amount of persuasion or coercing would make him change his mind. Though it may have been tiresome at times, it was also the sole reason why he was still in tennis. His parents had very nearly placed him under house arrest after his surgery, and yet he still managed to sneak out every afternoon to join his teammates on the courts. As a family friend, Fuji had advised Yukimura to quit tennis, competitively, at least, to no avail. Eventually he was forced to suggest to Yukimura's parents, to fell the tall Japanese maple tree outside the window, having known all along how Yukimura had gotten out every day. They had put bars on his window.

Yukimura stopped talking to him for nearly five months after that, but continued tennis whenever he could without a care.

"Akaya, could you hand me a bulb?"

Almost tripping over his own feet in his earnest to help his god, Kirihara brought out an entire handful of bulbs, presenting them at Yukimura's feet.

"Thank you very much, Akaya."

Fuji watched Kirihara blush, and melt, still basking in Yukimura's holy light. Child of god? Nonsense. That person had surpassed that by far already.

"Ah!" Yukimura screwed in the bulb, watching it as it lit up. Fuji read the ambiguous expression on his face to be a 'take that, Echizen Ryoma' smile. Something Fuji had only ever seen once, which was about two minutes before he was defeated during the nationals.

"Fuji, what is taking them so lo—" Ryoma stopped, gawping at the LIT bulb in the socket, "Who… How… Why…"

"Ryoma, look! The light is fixed! Isn't that great!"

"You see? _My_ buchou—"

"Akaya…" Yukimura placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to silence him, though Fuji could see the pride radiating from his body.

"Impossible…" Ryoma breathed, clambering up the ladder and tapping the lamp with a fingernail, examining the wires, "This is—" He touched the bulb with an index finger, as if feeling for proof that the lamp was lit. Upon contact, however, the lamp immediately fizzed out, and the speechless group was left in perpetual darkness.

Fuji stepped under the ladder, holding out his arms to catch a very unconscious Ryoma. As he turned to look at his friend again, he had to face the full blast of 'take that, Echizen Ryoma' smile, upped ten levels in intensity.

"Yukimura-buchou! Yukimura-buchou!"

"Yes, Akaya?"

"Yukimura-buchou, can I try? Can I? Can I?" It was unnerving how much the childish second year could change just by being on a court.

"Only after Genichirou, am I right?"

Sanada, apparently caught off guard, muttered a growl of consent. He picked up his racquet, looking as if he would rather be doing anything but what he was about to do, and pointed the tip at the now extinguished bulb.

"Bright like sunshine," He mumbled half heartedly, embarrassed to have to say such inane words.

Almost immediately, the locker room was brightened again. Yukimura looked duly impressed.

"That's a new one, did you create it yourself?"

"Yes." Sanada picked up his cap and plopped it over his eyes, a clear do not disturb sign.

"No he didn't!" Niou jumped up onto the bench, silver hair glittering in this new light, "It was a trick, brought to you by yours truly!" He snapped his fingers, and the bulb died out again, "The best illusion I have ever created! Would you like to know how I did it?"

"I would prefer if keep your illusions to the courts, though I can't say I'm not impressed. Explain."

"Well!" Niou said brilliantly, "If you really want to know, you have to ask Yagyuu there."

"Well, Masaharu, care to enlighten us?"

"I told you, you hav—" The silver haired trickster was cut off.

"I wasn't asking you, Hiroshi, I was asking Masaharu."

The gentleman grinned impishly, and removed his wig, "Aw man, I was hoping we would last longer than that, Yagyuu, you gave us away damn it!"

"What?" The real Yagyuu retaliated, removing his disguise as well, "Give me my glasses, these contacts are killing me."

"Yukimura-buchou!" Kirihara was getting a tad impatient, "Can I do it now _please_!"

"Not now, Kirihara, be patient, you have to let your senpai have a go first. Respect your elders, remember?" Yukimura chastised, motherly. Kirihara sulked, but otherwise said no more. Fuji had always admired this aspect of Yukimura, to be able to control people like Kirihara so well. That was, before his dear friend Shiraishi had clued him in on the secret. Now that he thought about it, Kirihara was not much different from Ryoma, the latter of which he still lay on his lap, for protection from pokes Kirihara seemed quite eager to give.

"Renji?"

"I see no way in which I can benefit from this exercise. I'll pass." He scribbled down a few lines into a legal pad, having decided his notebook too precious to be allowed anywhere near Inui.

"Bunta?"

Between mouthfuls of cake, Marui managed to choke out the words, "Stocking up energy for game."

"Jackal?"

"Sorry, going too near light bulbs will mess up my tan."

"You all sure? Okay then, Akaya!"

* * *

"Somebody stop him, he's going devil mode! Buchou!"

Yukimura, however, did nothing to stop the youngest member of their team, whose hair had already begun paling, and whose skin had developed a reddish tinge.

"We do not accept failure," He stated calmly, folding his arms across his chest, watching as the boy defenestrated a bulb.

"Seiichi, I honestly think…"

"No. Do not interfere." Yukimura said flatly. The same tone he used when he was asked to quit tennis, and Fuji understood it a lost cause. More importantly now, Ryoma was coming around, and has begun to stir.

"Hm…? What's the noise?" Kirihara had begun to bang the end of the light bulbs into the ceiling, putting much strain onto the ladder which Jackal was struggling to keep upright. Marui, aghast as a flake of plaster dropped into his cake, was running amok, high on sugar.

"Kirihara," Fuji explained. Ryoma frowned, the loud racket the devil boy made was quite irritating.

"Oi, brat," It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say to a person one year your senior and going berserk, "You an _Angel _with such beautiful hair." (**A/N**: New PoT… I think you can find an explanation in one of the chapters between twenty and thirty) Fuji could sense the sarcasm in the boy's voice, but Kirihara didn't. Apparently Fuji wasn't the only one Shiraishi had divulged the secret to, because Kirihara was already reverting back to his original state. Black hair, pale skin.

"Syuusuke, didn't I tell you not to interfere?" Yukimura's voice could rival Fuji's in terms of dangerousness.

"And I didn't," Fuji replied, cool.

"Might we settle this on the courts?"

"Gladly."

"My Yukimura-buchou will _never_ lose to you!"

"Akaya!"

"Yes, buchou."

* * *

(A/N: Blah blah blah, this part can be omitted)

"Come on Ryoma, so you can't change a light bulb. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"The light bulb went out the moment I touched it, how do you think I feel?"

"Kirihara couldn't do it either, don't feel bad."

"Don't compare me to that psycho devil."

"Don't worry, you still bring sunshine to my life!"

Fuji learnt that his comforting techniques still had a lot to be desired, especially after he had to nurse a purple bruise on his cheek for two weeks.

* * *

I made Fuji a friend of Yuki's, because it's an easier way to write it.

AND yay! I hope you liked it!

So, my **Japanese Maple** obsession:

Long long ago (three years, couple of months ago), My dad got posted to the U.S. for work, and me and my dear little sister joined him there. so, we got to live in this huge house! And it was really HUGE! And we could see deer and rabbits and ALL SORTS OF COOL STUFF. So anyway, we got to live in that house at only one thousand five hundred a month, which was THANKFULLY covered by my dad's work subsidies. And there was this BIG AND BEAUTIFUL Japanese maple tree outside in the yard, and it just reached my bedroom window which was on the second floor, and the leaves were BRIGHT RED! And it was so nice! And during the winter, all the leaves would drop and it would be, like, covered in snow, and it was just so pretty. I never saw trees with leaves other than green, dark green, and light green before (and yellow, but they were all dead and wrinkly), and the JAPANESE MAPLE had to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. I remember this blue bird that always flew on there, and got chased away by baby squirrels.

Anyway, I had to come back to boring old home after two years, and who knows what happened to that Japanese maple. I hope it didn't get chopped down T-T. I would cry.

And that, is why I am obsessed with Japanese maple trees.

BYE!


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